


Borrowed Clothes

by PrinceSircastic



Series: Sass, Speedsters and Serval Industries [4]
Category: All-New X-Factor, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Doug finally makes an appearance, M/M, Mild Sexual Tension, Mild Smut, Remy is a tease, but not really, mentions of intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSircastic/pseuds/PrinceSircastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy's wearing Pietro's sweater, and Pietro doesn't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Long-awaited, I know, but I'm still writing for this series, don't worry!  
> I'm slowly working in Doug and Warlock alongside the existing four, but I've never written any of them before now so forgive me if anything is off to start with. I'm basing characterisation purely from what I've seen in the comics.

"That's my sweater." 

Remy looked up from where he sprawled on the sofa, tilting his head back so he could see Pietro, who stood over him with a scowl on his handsome face. They stared each other down for a moment, and then Remy raised an eyebrow. 

"Hm?" Pietro circled around the sofa until he blocked Remy's view of the TV, and set his hands on his hips. 

"That sweater you're wearing." Pietro nodded at the sunglow yellow sweater, adorned with the sleek black cat of Serval Industries. "That's mine." Remy made a show of glancing down at the sweater, and ran his hand down the front of it. 

"Oh." He shrugged, glancing back up at Pietro. "So?" Pietro felt a nerve twitch beneath his eye, and he held back a sigh of frustration. 

"So, it's _mine._ " He knew he sounded petty and childish, but he didn't care. That was _his_ sweater, not Remy's. 

"You got like ten o' dese, Speedy." Remy shrugged again, stretching out a little more as he tried to peer around him at the TV. "Yo' wardrobe is jus' one big advertisement fo' Serval Industries." 

"I don't care. It's my sweater." He stepped in Remy's view again, enjoying the slight flash of annoyance in his eyes. Good. He wanted to piss him off. Lord knows Remy pissed _him_ off enough times. "Take it off." 

"So it's yo' sweater. What's de big deal?" 

"The big deal is, it's mine, and you're wearing it." Remy merely rolled his eyes and pushed up from the sofa, knowing it was pointless trying to watch TV around him. Pietro clearly wasn't going to let this go. He wandered through to the kitchen area, Pietro at his heels. "Why are you wearing it?" 

"Cause it's comfy?" Remy shrugged, grabbing a beer from the fridge and cracking it open. He paused, then held it out to Pietro in invitation, but Pietro ignored it. "What's up wit' you? It's jus' a sweater." He narrowed his eyes a little. "Did somebody piss in yo' cornflakes dis mornin'?" 

"You have plenty of your own clothes. I just don't see why you need to wear mine." Pietro watched as Remy took a swig from the bottle, his mouth going dry as he watched the motion of his throat as he swallowed. "Not that you wear any of your own half the time." Remy smirked at that. 

"Don' hear you complainin'." 

"Shut up." Pietro scowled again. "Just give me back my sweater." Remy rolled his eyes, and sighed. 

"Funny, Remy didn' feel a stick up yo' ass befo'." He muttered, setting the bottle down on the counter. "You want de sweater back? Fine." He grabbed the bottom hem of the sweater and tugged it up, slow enough for Pietro's eyes to focus on the smooth tan skin it revealed, and he ran his tongue across his dry lips. The sweater inched up and up, teasingly slow, and then Remy yanked it over his head and tossed it at Pietro's chest. "Dere. Have yo' damn sweater." Pietro stared for a moment, struggling to take his eyes off his beautifully sculpted chest and the untidy hair now ruffled deliciously and looking not unlike his sex-hair. "Now if yo' done whinin', Remy's missin' his show." He grabbed the bottle again and strode back over to the sofa, and Pietro turned, watching him saunter away in nothing but low-slung jeans. 

"Whatever." He managed to snap out, but it was half-hearted. He clutched the sweater to his chest for a moment, only taking his eyes off Remy when the Cajun dropped back out of sight onto the sofa, and then he glanced down at the garment in his hands. He didn't really know why it had bothered him that Remy had been wearing it, or why he suddenly felt a spark of disappointment that he'd given it back. 

Thinking he obviously needed to take a run to get his head back straight again, he left Remy to the TV and headed back to his room to put the sweater back into his closet. Distracted, he walked at a slower pace than he would normally, staring at the sweater and remembering how nicely it had fit on Remy's figure. Before he could stop himself, he'd lifted the sweater to his face, and breathed in the scent that clung to it. 

He'd lived, worked, and slept alongside the Cajun for long enough to recognise the various scents that went along with him – spice, cigarette smoke, cinnamon and the expensive aftershave he favoured, along with a touch of something not unlike gunpowder that Pietro knew was linked to his energy explosions. It was faint, but it was there, clinging to the fabric in the same way the fabric had clung to him. 

Great. Now his clothes smelled like Remy. He'd have to throw it in the laundry.

"Uh, Pietro?" He froze, lifting his face from the sweater and meeting the gaze of his half-sister as she stepped out of her room. "Is there a reason you're sniffing your clothes?" 

"No." He hissed out quickly. "I think- well I- a cat was sleeping on it." He lied. "I was making sure it didn't smell of cat." Lorna raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing more, and Pietro hurried past her into his room. "Damn Cajun." He muttered as he tossed the sweater onto his bed. Yeah, he definitely needed to clear his head. 

\-- 

" _Gambit_!" 

Lorna paused outside the communal area, her hand hovering over the door handle. She considered turning around and going somewhere – anywhere – else, because from the sound of things Remy and Pietro were about to butt heads again and she was tired of having to step between them, but she found herself opening the door anyway. It would probably rock the boat if one of them killed the other. As she stepped inside, she wondered if she'd ever have a morning without an argument between them.

Remy was sat at the table with Doug, who wore an expression caught somewhere between surprise and fear. _You'll get used to it, Doug_ , Lorna thought as she very subtly took a seat beside him. Pietro stood at Remy's side, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face – and Remy, as usual, didn't seem bothered at all. 

"Are we really gon' do dis again, Speedy?" Remy sat back in his chair, turning his gaze to meet Pietro's, a lazy smile on his face. Lorna helped herself to juice and gave Doug an apologetic look when he turned to her, his eyes questioning. 

"I thought I made it clear yesterday." Pietro snapped, one hand shooting out to snatch at the sleeve of the hoodie Remy wore – which, Lorna realised, was one of Pietro's. "This is mine. _Mine_. Not yours." 

"An' as Remy pointed out, you got like ten o' dese. What does it matter if Remy wears one?" He knocked Pietro's hand away, tugging at the front of Pietro's shirt with the other. "Ain' like you need it righ' now." 

"That's not the point! Stop stealing my clothes!" Pietro leant down until they were eye-to-eye, narrowing his eyes into a glare. 

"Yo' askin' a t'ief not to steal." Remy pointed out with a grin. "Besides, he's not stealin'. Jus' borrowin'." 

"Well, _stop_." Pietro hissed. "Give it back." 

"Oh, you want it back?" Remy pushed back from the table and stood, stepping right into Pietro's personal space, and Lorna prepared herself to step between them before things got physical. "Alrigh' den." His eyes never leaving Pietro's, Remy yanked the hoodie over his head and pressed the bundled garment against Pietro's chest, holding his gaze for several long moments. Pietro tried to resist the temptation that Remy's bare chest presented, struggling to hold his gaze and stop his eyes from wandering – but there was a fierceness in Remy's eyes that Pietro had seen before, late at night when Remy had him pinned beneath him. 

"Stop stealing my clothes." He murmured, but the fight had left his voice as his mind registered the subtle scent of Remy and the closeness between them, and heat began to creep up his neck. 

"Den stop leavin' dem on Remy's bedroom floor." Remy murmured back, his voice low enough so Lorna and Doug couldn't hear. He stepped around Pietro, making sure their shoulders bumped as he walked away, and Pietro let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He stared down at the hoodie, and sighed inwardly. 

"I… gotta run." He muttered to the other two, before darting out of the room. Doug watched him go, and then he turned to Lorna. 

"So… they're having sex, right?" 

\-- 

Pietro was being immature about it, and he knew it, but he didn't care. If Remy was going to steal his clothes and parade himself around in them, then he was just going to have to get back at him for it. Remy was out somewhere – Pietro hadn't asked, partly because he didn't care and partly because he was fairly certain he'd be flirting with anything that moved and for some reason that didn't sit well with him – and so he crept into his room while he had the chance. 

Lucifer yowled at him from the bed, and Pietro paused to pet him, a smile spreading on his face before he could catch it and stop it. Still, he couldn't help but smile wider when Lucifer purred happily and nuzzled into his hand. Okay, so maybe he liked Remy's cats a little. 

"Don't tell him I was here, okay?" He straightened up as he realised he was talking to the cat, something he regularly mocked Remy for doing, and he hurried to Remy's closet before he embarrassed himself further. Considering Remy rarely wore clothes unless he absolutely had to, he had a lot of them in his closet. He needed something that would be obviously his, but also something he would _want_ to wear. 

He ended up selecting one of Remy's shirts – a short-sleeved t-shirt with a Star Trek design on the front. No mistaking whose shirt this was, that was for sure. Since Lorna was up in a meeting with Snow, he could probably get away with putting it on now without it being noticed. He shrugged, tugged off his own shirt – and deliberately dropped it onto the bed for Lucifer to curl up on – and pulled the Star Trek one on instead. 

It was a nice fit on him, which surprised him. Though he and Remy weren't far off in build or size, Remy was still taller and he'd imagined the shirt would be somewhat loose on him – but Remy was also deceptively slender. Knowing Danger, Doug and Warlock were likely to wander into the communal area at any given moment, he grabbed one of his jackets from his room on the way back, something he could easily remove the second Remy got back. The less people who noticed he was wearing a Star Trek shirt, the better. 

He settled in front of the TV with reruns of Top Gear, one of the few TV shows that could actually hold his interest and keep him still. He had to be here when Remy got back, if he wanted this to be as effective as possible. A couple of hours later, he heard the telltale sounds of the elevator that Remy still fawned over like an idiot, and the stronger scent of Remy's cologne filtered through to the communal area. Pietro hurriedly tugged off his jacket and fetched himself a drink, settling back onto the sofa with his legs up on the coffee table, and tried not to smirk as he waited for Remy to find him. 

"Ey, Speedy." Remy sauntered in a moment later, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of the sofa. "So you do sit down an' relax from time to time, eh?" He paused, frowned, and then smirked. "Is dat Remy's shirt?" Pietro resisted the urge to grin. 

"Oh? Is it?" He glanced down at the shirt as if seeing it for the first time. "Guess it is." He turned his gaze to Remy, his eyes challenging. "Got a problem with that?" 

"Oh yeah." Remy grinned, reaching down and grabbing Pietro's wrist. "Remy got a big problem wit' dat." Before Pietro could react, Remy had tugged him up from the sofa and thrown him up over one shoulder, and he was halfway to the door by the time Pietro got over his surprise. 

"What are you doing? Put me down!" Remy ignored him, carrying him down the hall to his room with a smirk on his face. " _Remy_!" Lucifer leapt up from the bed and out of the way when Remy kicked open the door and tossed Pietro down onto the bed – and then Remy pounced. The moment their lips met, Pietro forgot any protest he had about being treated like luggage, and his hands came up to clutch at Remy's shoulders. 

"See de problem is…" Remy murmured against his lips, his hands already working at removing Pietro's trousers. "Dat shirt looks far too good on you." He nipped at Pietro's throat, biting harder when Pietro moaned and twisted his fingers into Remy's hair. "So good, in fact, dat Remy's gon' fuck you wit' it on." Pietro felt heat rush through him at his words, and his hands hurriedly tugged at Remy's clothes, itching to get them off as soon as possible. Laughing, Remy trailed kisses along Pietro's throat and across his jaw, and let Pietro take control for long enough to get him naked. 

An hour later, Pietro lay sprawled in a tangled heap on the floor beside the bed, the Star Trek shirt clinging to his damp skin, sheets twisted around his legs and a Cajun half-sprawled on top of him. 

"Guess you don' always finish quickly, eh?" Remy murmured, voice rough and low, and he slipped a hand up under the shirt to rest it over Pietro's heart, feeling it hammering away in his chest. Pietro managed a lazy grin, and he jabbed a finger into Remy's ribs. Remy laughed, leaning in to nuzzle at his neck, and Pietro shivered when a warm, wet tongue traced his Adam's apple. 

"Don't start anything you can't finish, Cajun." He warned, sliding a hand very slowly along Remy's spine. "You don't have the stamina to match mine." 

"Dat sounds like a challenge." Remy purred, sliding a leg between Pietro's. The speedster rolled his eyes, and gave him another jab in the ribs. 

"Don't push it, Cajun." He gave him a shove, and Remy rolled free of him and sat up. Pietro admired the strong lines of his back, barely resisting the urge to reach up and sink his teeth into his shoulder. God, when had he got so damn hot for this bastard? "So… all that," he gestured vaguely at their mostly naked bodies and the evidence of a good tumble in bed, "was just because I wore your shirt?" 

"Are you surprised?" Remy leant down for another kiss, his hand smoothing out the front of the shirt. "Dere's jus' somet'in' arousin' 'bout seein' yo' lover wearin' yo' clot'es. It's jus'… intimate." He shrugged, and then stood up, stretching out as he did so. Pietro let his eyes roam the long length of him for a moment as he considered his words. "Remy's gon' grab some water befo' he gets too many ideas 'bout round two." He winked before he bent to tug on his jeans, and then he grabbed the nearest shirt – which just so happened to be the one Pietro had left on his bed. He tugged it over his head as he headed to the door, and Pietro sat up to watch him go. The shirt fit snugly across his shoulders and biceps, and clung to that slender waist in all the right ways, and he had a sudden urge to pounce on him and start round two a little early. 

And in that moment, he finally understood what Remy meant. 

\-- 

"Isn't that Pietro's sweater?" Remy looked up at Doug, and then down at his sweater. 

"Why, it certainly seems to be." Remy grinned, watching as Doug's eyebrows pulled together into a frown. "Wonder how dat happened." 

"He's only going to yell at you again, you know that, right?" When Remy merely shrugged, Doug rolled his eyes and wandered over to the fridge to fix himself a snack. He really didn't get Remy and Pietro's relationship – if they weren't arguing, they were finding every possible way to piss each other off, and it was evident that they couldn't stand each other. He figured what went on between them at night – or, in fact, whenever the mood took them – was some sort of kinky hatesex, because otherwise it just didn't make any sense. 

He groaned inwardly when Pietro strode into the room, and waited for the inevitable yelling to begin. When it didn't, he turned away from the fridge in surprise – and his jaw dropped as he watched Pietro grab Remy by the front of the sweater and tug him into a fierce kiss. He blinked several times, and then rubbed at his eyes to make sure he definitely wasn't hallucinating, and then awkwardly cleared his throat when he spotted Remy's hands snaking into Pietro's trousers. 

Pietro leapt away from Remy like he'd been burned, whilst Remy merely turned and gave Doug a slow, lazy grin. Doug shook his head, grabbed the snack he'd made, and held up a hand as he strode past them. 

"I don't get it. I really, really don't get it." Remy watched him go, and then laughed at the expression on Pietro's face. Evidently Pietro hadn't taken a scan of the room before he'd kissed him. Still, Remy could feel the desire from him, and it was evident in his eyes. He glanced over at the kitchen table, and then back at Pietro.

"T'ink dat's sturdy enough?" Pietro opened his mouth to respond, and then he paused and reconsidered. 

"Let's find out."


End file.
